


A beginning again, like the messiest magic

by leaveanote



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love, M/M, Mouthy Bottom Crowley, Oral Sex, Romance, Service Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sex, Smut, Spanking, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 10:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19868482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leaveanote/pseuds/leaveanote
Summary: They confessed their love to each other after the world didn't end, but they haven't been physical at all. Crowley's perfectly content with this, overjoyed at anything and everything he gets from Aziraphale, but Aziraphale admits that he'd been getting over Heaven's touch-starved environment, and he wants very badly to touch Crowley. A lot of fluff and romance ensues, as well as a lot of touching. Service top Aziraphale, mouthy bottom Crowley, light spanking and hairpulling, and so much ineffable love.





	A beginning again, like the messiest magic

“I hate Gabriel!”

“Yeah, we...why?”

They’re sitting on the cushy sofa Aziraphale had insisted on, in the otherwise austere living room of Crowley’s flat. Crowley had resisted, but when Aziraphale asserted that he’d need some cozy place to sit if he was going to be spending more time here now that no one was bothering to keep tabs on them, he acquiesced quite quickly. Aziraphale had been reading (he’d also brought over a rather mouldy bookshelf, in exchange for letting Crowley bring a few houseplants into the bookstore) while Crowley flipped lazily through his phone, but he’s slammed his book down into his lap.

“He — he made fun of my body, a while back,” Aziraphale admits, not looking at Crowley. “Said I’d been eating too much, quite shamed me for it.”

Crowley’s entire face shifts. He removes his glasses, rage filling him, lining his forehead.

“He _what_ ,” he says, dangerously quiet.

“I know!” Aziraphale looks at him now, petulant, and Crowley snarls as this sinks in. “And I like my body the way it is, I like eating what I want to eat, human bodies come in all lovely shapes and sizes and that’s one of my favorite things about them!”

“You’re damn right, angel,” Crowley growls. “Thumbscrews would be too kind, too specific,” he mutters to himself, entirely seriously, “I’m going to have to dig deep into the medieval archives for something properly befitting —”

Aziraphale puts his hand on the sofa, right next to Crowley’s trembling, shaking fist. “That,” he says sternly, taking a breath “is not why I am bringing this up. We got all the revenge on them at the moment that I’d care to give.”

“I’d care to give some more revenge, are you kidding, what’s that stick up his ass bastard got in his head talking shit about your perfect — ”

“I know,” Aziraphale says, more firmly now. “I know, darling. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Crowley isn’t done worrying about it.

“Then why’d you bring it up?”

Aziraphale looks at him, a curious blaze in the angel’s eyes.

“I was just thinking about how much I like to eat. To make this body feel good. To indulge in all the lovely little things that humans do to feel pleasure!”

“You’re damn right, it’s one of my favorite things about you —” Crowley would have proceeded to list the rest if Aziraphale didn’t cut him off.

“—so I think I’d like to have sex.”

Crowley’s mouth is still open, but no words come out. The angel is looking at him earnestly, as if he’s just asked him to tea, but Crowley can feel the ripples of desire under his skin...

“You what,” he says at last, his ears very hot.

“Sex!” Aziraphale exclaims, his eyes wide, and Crowley’s entire stomach turns over. “I can’t be sure, of course, since I’ve never really been terribly interested in the past, but I think I’d enjoy it, perhaps even more than a good crepe. I’ve experimented with genitals a few times over the millennia and I enjoy touching myself — “

“You _what_ ,” Crowley says again, he had been entirely sure he was the only non-human on the planet who had manifested genitals, much less played with them on occasion, and he never would have guessed _Aziraphale_...but it did make some sense, when he thought about it, the angel loved human comforts so.

“Yes, well. I just think, perhaps, I would like to, well, fuck. As it were. And you are under absolutely no obligation, obviously, but as I do love you, I thought you might be interested. If you’d rather not indulge, I certainly understand.”

“I love you too,” Crowley says weakly, in utter disbelief.

“Are you all right?” the angel asks, his cheeks pink. “You look awfully peaky. I know I’ve — sprung this on you — ”

 _There’s an awful lot I’ve been thinking about you springing on me, angel_ , Crowley thinks in a panic, _namely, a cock. One attached to you, preferably, but if you wanted to manifest a dildo I wouldn’t say no. I don’t ever, actually, say no to you..._

“Just that I’m trying to make sure I’m not dreaming,” Crowley says, trying very hard to not sound like he’s blustering, and failing, “because, well.” He gives a little cough in the back of this throat. “I’ve had this dream.”

“Have you,” Aziraphale replies, and it is evident, to Crowley’s extreme embarrassment, that he is utterly unsurprised by this revelation.

“Well, yes,” Crowley goes on, “but I was quite content to _keep_ it a dream, angel, since despite the fact that we confessed our love for each other after the world didn’t end, we haven’t done so much as hold hands! Which,” he adds very quickly, “I don’t mind. In the least. I — ” he swallows. What’s there to lose at this point, anyway. “I never thought I’d ever get this much.” He looks up at his angel in something like astonishment. “Your love — _this_ love, not just the generic kind you give to lots of things — that’s more than I ever thought I deserved.” Aziraphale’s face has softened, and he’s gazing at Crowley with his lips, those beautiful plush lips, gently parted. “And however you choose to give me that love, it’s more than enough. I don’t need anything more. And besides! I thought you’d think anything physical was a strange, silly, human thing...”

“Well, perhaps,” Aziraphale concedes, “but you see, my dear, that’s what I was getting at. The only reason we haven’t held hands, why we sleep with our backs to each other every night, is because...Gabriel...” He looks away, and Crowley is filled with rage again.

Aziraphale’s not just talking about the stomach comment, this time. Crowley remembers how it was in Heaven. Touch is weakness. Desire for comfort or kindness is an earthly pleasure. There is only the Plan.

“I remember,” he says hoarsely, and Aziraphale seems to take some heart at this.

“So — so it’s not that I haven’t wanted to be physical with you,” Aziraphale says, and at this, he reaches out his hand. Crowley takes it, carefully, placing his palm in the angel’s. It’s soft and real and Crowley never, ever thought he’d get this. His cheeks turn bright red. “It’s that it’s taken me quite a while to get Gabriel out of my head about it.”

Crowley nods.

“Well,” he says, his voice low. “That is...very significant to know.”

“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, earnest and open and Crowley can feel the push of his want, radiating from him. “Can you...can you feel it?” He blushes. “I can feel yours.”

“I figured,” Crowley murmurs, his cheeks bright red. “Cause I love you, erm. Quite a whole buggering lot, angel.” Aziraphale flashes him that smile, that smile Crowley would do literally anything for, and he feels himself melt.

“So,” Aziraphale says, dragging out the word, “are you...interested?” It’s the angel’s turn to blush. “I suspect you could already tell that I am. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t know sooner.”

“Well,” Crowley says, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I reckon -- I can, actually, feel it now.” He gulps, then lets his lips part, lets the feel of it wash over his tongue, where he tastes sin. “The lust of it. I guess...it’s not unfamiliar -- I’d just never quite noticed it in this way before, ‘cause it was so tangled in, well.”

“The love I feel for you,” Aziraphale finishes. He bites his lip. “You can always feel that, can’t you?”

“Always,” Crowley says, his voice a croak.

“I suspect it’s because it’s meant to be a sin, to love a demon,” Aziraphale says thoughtfully.

“Certainly no other angel ever has.”

“Or,” Aziraphale continues, “it’s just because it’s so _damned_ much I couldn’t hide it if I tried.” He smiles again. “And of course it’s tangled in the love I feel for you. My desire to be physical with you -- it’s inextricable from how much I love you.”

Crowley’s mouth has fallen slightly open. He blinks hard.

“Still can’t quite believe I’m not dreaming.”

Aziraphale isn’t smiling anymore. He’s moved closer. Crowley can feel the warmth from his mouth.

“What if you don’t like it?” he says abruptly, hating himself for ruining the moment, but he has to say it, this thing between them is so new, it’s not _fragile_ , exactly, but Crowley can’t lose Aziraphale again, he can’t. “What if -- what if we’re no good, what if it just makes it weird, you know, I -- I’d rather never touch you again if it meant I got to love you like I’ve been loving you, without apology, without hiding it -- I -- I don’t want to risk it --” He swallows. He knows his face is a wreck. “I can’t lose you again.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says softly, and he gives Crowley’s hand a little squeeze. He reaches up, and for the first time, traces his finger along Crowley’s demon marking, the snake coiled on his temple. “If you want to take this slowly, we have all the time in the world. And if we don’t like it, we won’t do it again! But,” he says, and now he cups Crowley’s cheek in his soft, warm hand, and his pink mouth is so close, those beautiful eyes shining up at him, and Crowley has never felt so blessed in his life, not even when he was holy, “there is nothing in this universe that will take you from me. Nothing.” Crowley has almost gone numb, though at the same time he’s never been more aware of his body, he feels himself moving closer, until there’s only a fraction of space between them, his heart a hurricane in his chest. “I don’t want to keep anything from you anymore, my love,” the angel murmurs. “I don’t want to go another day without knowing what you feel like.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m ready, Crowley.” And he moves closer, and waits.

Crowley’s first thought is _well I’m bloody well not!_ but he realizes very quickly that that isn’t true at all, he’s only never let himself want this, not like this, because it had always been impossible, Aziraphale had told him he was going too fast and he never wanted to hear that ever again, he would spend his life giving Aziraphale exactly what he wanted and nothing more, nothing less, but now the angel is here, waiting, loving him, _wanting him_ , and Crowley lets himself do what he’s ached to do since the beginning of the world, and kiss him.

It feels like the beginning all over again. It feels like the explosion of a star, like sun and sea and soil, the thrill of a fresh universe, waiting to be filled. It feels like teeth and lips and breath and a smile. It feels like nothing else ever mattered except everything that brought them here. It feels, honestly, a little bumpy and awkward, and like the purest, clearest, messiest form of magic.

“Ah,” says Aziraphale at last. He pulls away, though not very far at all. One of his hands is still tangled in Crowley’s hair, the other on his leather-clad thigh, and Crowley is trying to remember how to speak.

“You alright?” he asks, kiss-dazed and terrified of the answer.

“I think,” says the angel, flushed pink with his own hair a mess, “I would very much like to do that a lot more, if you are amenable.”

And Crowley barely has the time to grin before the angel positively _pounces_ on him, pushing Crowley back onto the sofa and pressing every inch of their bodies together, and it’s almost too much, the angel’s leg between his, stomachs flush together and Aziraphale’s hungry mouth moving down Crowley’s throat, teeth tugging at his clothes, but it’s not, it’s quite fucking _excellent_ , actually, once Crowley’s gotten his mind around the fact that this is actually happening.

“This feels _good_ ,” Aziraphale pants in astonishment, rutting against Crowley’s thigh, drawing a low groan from the demon. “ _You_ feel good...you’re very fucking sexy, do you know that?”

“Am I?” Crowley asks, dazed. He doesn’t mean to be coy about it, he’s genuinely asking from within his haze as Aziraphale presses his palms into Crowley’s hips.

"Well, _yes_ , and I know it doesn’t really _matter_ , but my goodness, you really...what’s the phrase... _turn me on_ …”

Crowley does grin, here, pulling Aziraphale up by the waist to kiss his mouth again.

“Shut up,” he murmurs, before taking the angel’s lower lip between his teeth and biting, ever so carefully, and Aziraphale gives a moan that nearly sends Crowley over the edge right then and there, pressing what Crowley realizes is his very ready erection harder against the demon’s thigh.

“I have literally no idea how I resisted,” Aziraphale manages, breathlessly. He pulls back far enough to jerk his head towards the bedroom. “Would you, erm. Be interested?”

Crowley licks his lips, snaps his fingers, and they find themselves in the center of his bed -- which of course, has a plush comforter on it now, thanks to Aziraphale -- and they’re tangled again, limbs wrapped around each other.

“It’s you,” Aziraphale says, dazed, pressing their bodies together. He shakes his head. “It’s _you_ , fuck touch or physical contact, I would never want this with anyone else, it wouldn’t be like this. It’s you, it’s you, I want -- I want to do everything with you…” and he lowers that mouth to Crowley again and kisses him slower now, slipping his tongue between Crowley’s lips. Time has stopped working, minutes pass, maybe years, it doesn’t matter, not when they’re together, present, like this.

“I love you,” Crowley murmurs, “I love you, Aziraphale, I love you, anything you want, anything, it’s yours…”

Aziraphale props himself up on his hands, hovering over his lover.

“It’s far beyond time,” he says softly, his voice laden with lust, “that I give you something _you_ want.” And with that, he begins to remove his clothes.

Aziraphale sits back on Crowley’s lap and undoes his tie. Crowley props himself up on his elbows to watch, pressing his hips up as he does and Aziraphale grinds down on them with a little sigh. The angel gets his blazer off, and his vest, and is just working on the buttons to his shirt when Crowley can’t take it anymore. He sits up, crosses his legs, and pulls the angel into his lap, wrapping Aziraphale’s legs around him.

“Can I?” he asks, his voice hoarse, before planting a chaste kiss on the angel’s lips. Aziraphale gives a small nod, an _mm_ of assent, and with trembling fingers, with the fiercest reverence the fallen angel has ever shown, Crowley undoes Aziraphale’s buttons. He pulls the shirt off, and the undershirt, and then Aziraphale is bare before him, all pink and round and soft and fuzzy and “so beautiful,” Crowley murmurs, pressing kisses to the newly uncovered parts, letting his hands caress Aziraphale’s stomach, his chest, his hips. Aziraphale lets him for a moment, rocking into the touch, grinding down into Crowley’s lap, but presently he pulls Crowley away.

“I’d like to -- ” he bites his lip, moves in to kiss Crowley again, and when he pulls back he’s blushing, slightly. He traces Crowley’s collarbone with a soft finger. “Can I take your clothes off, Crowley?”

Crowley nods, and Aziraphale removes his jacket, his tie, his shirt, and then after another nod, he moves lower on the bed and removes first his own trousers and pants, and then Crowley’s, and then their strange, familiar human forms are bare before each other, and Aziraphale covers Crowley’s body with his, hips to hips, thighs to thighs, stomach to stomach.

“So many places we can touch,” he whispers, rolling their bodies together. “You’re beautiful, my darling.”

Crowley can hardly believe it, and perhaps Aziraphale can tell, because he brings their mouths together again.

“I’m here,” he murmurs into Crowley’s mouth, “I’m here, I’m yours, I’m here.”

“I love you,” Crowley says, and he can’t help but press their hips together harder, the sight of Aziraphale’s naked body...the feel of his hard cock between his legs…but he still doesn’t want to go too fast...

And this, Aziraphale can _certainly_ tell, because it’s his turn to bite at Crowley’s lip, and ask:

“Could I put my mouth on you?”

Crowley lets out a far-too-honest gasp at the thought, gripping the sheets, and Aziraphale smirks, which just makes Crowley’s cock harder, and then the angel is kissing his way down his chest, his stomach, his thighs, and then --

Aziraphale takes him into his mouth all at once, and Crowley lets out a cry of both pleasure and sheer relief, like something finally fucking woke in him, _yes_ , Anthony, this is happening, fucking realize it and enjoy it, which is very much encouraged by the fact that Aziraphale moans around his cock and begins to move with great abandon, pressing his lips into the shaft, gripping the base with his fingers where his throat can’t reach.

“Is this okay -- ?” he asks, pulling away for a moment, and Crowley groans at the loss of sensation.

“ _Yes, fuck, please_...oh, _fuck_ , angel…”

And he swears he can _feel_ Aziraphale actually smirk around his cock as he runs his hot, hungry mouth over it again and again and again, and just when Crowley worries it actually might be too much all at once, Aziraphale pulls back just far enough to let his tongue encircle the head of his cock, and Crowley gives a fresh moan.

“You taste good,” says the angel, and flicks the tip of his tongue out, the same tongue Crowley’s watched lap up all kinds of cream and icing for years and tried very hard not to envision exactly this, and licks the precome from his cock.

“ _Aziraphale_ ,” Crowley says, and in this space of love, this strange, entirely new love made physical in the universe, between an angel and a demon, it comes out charged with a power that takes them both by surprise. “I need you,” he beseeches.

“What do you want, my love?” Aziraphale licks his lips, his hand almost absent-mindedly stroking his own thick cock, and Crowley is overcome by a rush of potent desire, Aziraphale’s and his at once, burgeoning even more.

“Do you want to fuck me?” he asks, and he can’t believe he’s asking it but _fuck_ he wants it so badly…

Aziraphale’s mouth falls open in desire, his pace quickening on his own hard cock, and Crowley moans, aching to touch his own, but he wants Aziraphale, only Aziraphale…

“You want me to fuck you, Crowley?” the angel asks, breathless, and Crowley nods, squirming.

“I want you inside me, Aziraphale,” he speaks through gritted teeth, arching his back, desperate with need but _loving_ that they’re both, at last, tempting each other and giving in. “I want you always, all over me, inside me, filling me up...I’m yours, I’m yours, _take me, please_ …”

The angel relinquishes his grip on his own erection to snap his fingers and pull a tube of lubricant out of the air, Crowley would blush but he’s too far lost in the want of it and Aziraphale’s kissing him again, murmuring as he slicks his fingers.

“I’m _yours_ , you understand me? I’m here, my darling, and I want you. I want to give you everything you want.”

Crowley writhes on the sheets, nodding, needing it, and Aziraphale stares at him hard, lips parted, as he positions himself between Crowley’s thighs and touches his fingers to Crowley’s entrance. Crowley moans, spreads his legs wider, and then Aziraphale is pressing inside him, opening him, and they gasp together.

“ _Fuck_ …” Aziraphale hisses, slipping a second finger inside, and Crowley bears down on him. “How does it feel?”

“So good...so _good_ ,” Crowley manages. Those holy hands, pressed into him, curling, stretching. “I want it, I want more, please, I want…” He swallows, shakes his head, mussing his red locks against the pillow. “I want your cock, please, _please_ , I’m ready…”

Aziraphale gives a sharp intake of breath but he needs no more prompting, he removes his fingers and there’s a pause as Crowley hears him slick himself with the lubricant. Crowley goes to turn over, to give the angel a better angle, but Aziraphale catches him first in a deep kiss.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, voice ragged with desire. “You tell me what you want, okay?”

Crowley grins, so aroused he can hardly see.

“Fuck me, angel,” he growls, and turns over.

Aziraphale positions himself, and Crowley seizes the sheets in anticipation, his legs spread, balanced on his knees, his own erection throbbing between his thighs. Aziraphale grabs his cock and brings it to Crowley’s entrance, guiding it, pressing it nearly in but not quite, letting the head push against him until Crowley’s bucking back into it, hardly able to believe the angel is _teasing_ him, and just when it’s about to be cruel, Aziraphale pushes in and Crowley cries out.

“Is it too much?” Aziraphale asks at once, pausing though he’s so hot and hard inside him, and Crowley shakes his head.

“No, fuck no, I just -- go slow? At first?”

Aziraphale does, pushing in just a bit before pulling almost all the way out, and then again but deeper, and then deeper, letting Crowley adjust. There’s an ache to it, a sharp stretch that could be miracled away in an instant, but Crowley would so much rather feel every bit of this, keep the miracles out of it and just _be_ together, and slowly but surely the ache fades into pure bliss: at being filled, at being fucked, at Aziraphale, inside him.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, “that’s it, you can go harder now.” Aziraphale moans, his hands finding Crowley’s waist and pulling their bodies together. He’s buried to the hilt now, filling Crowley all the way.

“How -- _oh_ \-- how do I feel, angel?” Crowley asks, his voice rough with lust.

“Better than anything,” Aziraphale answers immediately, moving harder, rougher as he finds his pleasure in it, “oh, _Crowley. Yes_.” Crowley can hear him smiling, and he smiles too as he’s fucked into the mattress. He lets himself moan as the angel moves inside him, and Aziraphale murmurs his name, over and over, a demon’s name spoken with such _reverence_.

A hot, aching, brilliant something has begun to fill Crowley, and he shifts into Aziraphale’s thrusts, trying to move closer to it, and as Aziraphale begins to move even harder, fingertips digging into hips, Crowley arches his back and --

“ _There_!” he cries out, “oh, please, there, _there_!” Aziraphale gives a low groan and keeps one hand on Crowey’s hips to steady him, the other presses into his lower back, arching it further, and a ragged gasp tears from Crowley’s throat.

“ _Oh_ , I didn’t know it could be _this_ , angel, oh fuck, _fuck_ , more, please, harder, there, _more_ …”

Aziraphale moans, pulls back on Crowley’s hips and leans forward so Crowley can feel the angel’s breath on his shoulderblades right at the base of where he keeps his wings, and Aziraphale threads his fingers in Crowley’s hair and Crowley nods and he _pulls_.

The sharpness of it doesn’t hurt, not when Crowley’s blissed out and filled with pleasure, only focuses him and makes him arch his back even more, giving Aziraphale the angle to bear down even harder on that spot inside him and --

“ _Yes_! That’s it, please, oh, Aziraphale... _please_ …”

Aziraphale gives his hair one last tug before scraping his nails down Crowley’s back, cupping a cheek of the demon’s ass in his hot hand and then, without letting up his rhythm, giving it a sharp, solid spank. This not only makes him arch his back again but clench, tighten around Aziraphale’s cock, and Crowley moans, wrecked, pushing back now, fucking back against the angel as hard as he can, all traces of discomfort gone in the wake of this shimmering new pleasure.

“ _Again, again_ …” Aziraphale obeys, spanking him over and over, that hot holy hand giving him pleasure like this until Crowley’s clenched so tight around him, his whole body trembling, on the brink, and he goes to reach for his throbbing cock at last but --

“May I?” Aziraphale asks, bending low over him.

“You fucking better,” Crowley manages, and Aziraphale gives a low, obscene little chuckle before gently biting Crowley’s throat and wrapping his hand around Crowley’s cock.

Crowley lets out a fresh cry, bucking up against his lover’s cock and into his hand all at once, he can feel Aziraphale losing his pace, fucking him rough and frantic now, never letting up on that spot, never loosening his grip on Crowley’s erection, and the whole time he’s murmuring in Crowley’s ear:

“I love you, I love you, you feel so _good_ , my darling, you're beautiful, you're amazing, you're _everything_ , I love you, I’m yours…”

And the heat builds, his body tensing, until at last it crashes through him, hot and sweet and wonderful because it’s Aziraphale giving it to him, all of it, inside him and around him and then -- and then filling him, deep, deep inside. Crowley is utterly lost in the sensation, and also, he feels finally, finally _found_.

When at last the spell breaks, when he’s spilled the last of himself over Aziraphale’s hand and his sheets, Crowley still doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want Aziraphale to pull out of him. When he does, Aziraphale doesn’t give him a moment to miss it, settling himself promptly on the bed and pulling Crowley into his arms, wrapping his legs around him.

“I’m -- a bit of a mess,” Crowley croaks hoarsely, he can feel Aziraphale’s come spilling out of him, his own sticky on his stomach, though he doesn’t want the angel to pull away.

“You,” the angel says, “are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

This kiss is slower, exhausted and sated, but it’s the most romantic one of the entire evening. And, Crowley realizes, his entire life.

“Perhaps to the world,” Aziraphale adds, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s nose. “Almost certainly, in fact. And definitely, definitely, to me.”

Crowley presently settles in the crook of Aziraphale’s arm, their legs entwined, his arm over the angel’s chest.

“Well,” he says at last, clearing his throat. “You -- erm. You liked that, then, I take it?”

Aziraphale looks down at him for a moment and Crowley can just tell he’s fighting back the urge to laugh.

“I have to be sure!” Crowley asserts indignantly, but he’s grinning.

“Suffice it to say,” Aziraphale says, smiling now too, “that if you are amenable, we -- ” here he pauses to kiss Crowley’s forehead “-- are doing that -- ” his nose now “-- again.”

Crowley pushes himself up to kiss his angel on the mouth, and he’s earnest now.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Aziraphale,” he says quietly, and Aziraphale gazes earnestly at him too, reaching down to thread their fingers together, at once very like the touch of his hand that began this evening, and something else entirely. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the bit that I get to love you like this now, with you loving me back. I’m -- I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to figure out how to get it right, all right? And do it better. Love you the way you should be, even though I’m...what I am.”

Aziraphale squeezes his hand.

“Don’t you say that, Crowley. I want _you_. As you are. All of you.” His free hand brushes Crowley’s demon marking again, and Crowley feels something inside him release. “I know you. And I want you. And I love you.” And Crowley believes him. “As for spending the rest of our lives learning to love me better, well.” Aziraphale brings their hands up to his mouth, brushes Crowley’s fingers with a kiss. “You’re doing a pretty astonishing job of that already. So why don’t we spend the rest of our lives...exploring this world we saved, together? Lots of crepes, maybe some stars, perhaps some bebop and a garden or two, and, well -- hopefully quite a bit of _this_ , as since I have mentioned, I have taken quite a liking to it.”

Crowley’s face breaks into a smile.

"I love you, angel."

Aziraphale pulls him close, their bodies touching in a thousand ways, with every intention of touching a thousand more, and a thousand more times again. They lie in each other’s peace, in the love that fills the room, the apartment, and probably all of London, if not quite literally the world, and fall asleep entangled in each other, with the promise of so many tomorrows to share.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3 Hope you liked it! Check out my other fics -- I write both G-rated fluff and E-rated smut but you can bet both will have lots of kisses.
> 
> you can request fics & talk to me about ineffable kisses on tumblr at letmetemptyou <3


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